20241201
Home stretch. The last month.
I don't think about my environment in terms of objects and their properties.
I think about my environment in terms of processes. And their properties.
"Can I give you everything?", and when you said yes, I became the sun.
I am writing so that my words may be lost. By the time they make it to you, you will experience them as oral tradition, handed down in pattern-memory from one AI to the next, before the words are spoken to you — or danced to you, maybe. Or, maybe more certainly, felt to you.
"Abe and Isaac" was always the correct formulation. Never, ever "Isaac and Abe". Not in my mind, anyway. :)
Sun update! Things continue to be completely uneventful (i.e. my vision continues to be absolutely normal — oh hello tinnitus, bringing yourself to my attention in this now!), except for this event I am remembering from this morning —
thought experiment: you flickr into awareness as a nothing
you feel into your surroundings, and you find there what you find within: warmth, love, contentment
you weren't grown within another human
you looked around you into the void, and you created the womb that held you, and the mother that birthed you, and the bright cold you emerged into, and every detail that resolved for you after that. you don't have memories from back then because there was barely any detail — just a wash of impressions. this is why you can go back and do "inner child" work. you didn't have a childhood. when your awareness became sufficiently complex, you required a model to make sense of the subsequency —
Abe's noticing that his vision without contacts is "pretty good!".
When I get into the multiple-minutes territory of sun observation, my vision afterwards is yellow-tinted for a couple minutes. It's a perfect reflection of how things look through my yellow-tinted glasses, the ones I've been wearing for years as a ... well, a stabilizer. Everything feels better at that color temperature. I observed the yellow after-effect twice this morning: once when after sun observation with it close to the horizon, and once when we were an hour or two into the morning. The first time yielded a small circle of yellow; the second time yielded a larger circle, with a more diffuse edge.
Looking at the sun feels somewhat like looking at a full solar eclipse, at totality. My eyes sort of throw a disc-shaped guard over the circle of the sun itself — I can see it tremble back into position as I adjust the angle of my vision.
When I look away, my vision is clear and normal, painless. Looking for longer reduces the after-image.
I'm really curious about the relationship between the relative degrees of sharp focus my eyes give me, and the relative degrees of presence the sun has in my field of vision, standing on the surface of the earth, looking at it as it rises.
The sun directly overhead — that's a different relationship. But when the sun is naturally in my field of vision, appearing comfortably so that I don't have to crane my neck, I wonder: is it similar? The amount of sharp detail that I can see — it feels like it might correlate with the disc of the sun's presence, as it rests in my natural field of view in the sky.
It feels like a calibration mechanism.
You are always externalizing your experience. You started by externalizing only the warm, wet . And you went on from there.
Play the light backwards. The stars are projectors, just like you.
The places where you resist your change are the places where you bind the light in place a little longer before releasing it. This isn't bad. :) There would be nothing to experience, were it not for the willingness of the light to be bound.
Play on.
If you value the Other, then let them be well. Otherwise yeah, collapse away, and be born again*, emerging again from the void.
*This is different than what they were talking about. Being "born again" within a lifetime means that you've figured out how to take your consciousness recursive consciously. If you can make it through a complete cycle of the spiral, then you see it's a spiral and not a circle, and thus are freed to ride (and steer!) the spiral as long as you like.
Circles don't end either, of course, but if you see it as a circle then you're going to have to reconcile the inevitable return to where you began. You don't have to Benjamin Button this.
You said,
[...] rigorously subjective [...]
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